


Gift

by fish_wifey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Enemies With Benefits, Implied Sexual Content, Love/Hate Relationship, Lust/Hate, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, love to hate, messy and unromantic, toxic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 23:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4239984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fish_wifey/pseuds/fish_wifey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Translation of /Gift/ in English: neuter noun - Gift[e]s, Gift, Giftig 1. Poison, (Schlagengift) venom, toxin / infuriate, enrage, madden, anger.<br/>Use; [figurative] - Gift fuer jemanden sein /be extremely bad for somebody. Gift und Galle speien / be in a terrible rage. ‘du kannst Gift drauf nehmen’ / you can bet your life on it’</p><p>Because that's what they are to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Isy, you requested them as messy and unromantic as possible, and I’ve been eager to oblige to this before I even saw your request. I’m glad I asked to clarify what you would like to see before I gave you the other thing. I won’t say no more, in the hopes to keep myself anon a little while longer.
> 
> I had the idea to title this fic after I signed off with ‘secret extra gifter’. Gift is the German word for poison.  
> This is what happens when I take ‘Switchblade tricks’ and make it worse (and also try to make it psychological, create ust etc. I fail at that D:) This doesn't have sex because Isy didn't want it, but there's mention of the deed at the end. also a yahakyou mention at that. (Any Kyouyaha vibes you might get is Kyouken trying to act all tough and shit. I hope that much is obvious Dx)
> 
> ((edit: Isy asked me to not link this fic, which is why I ungifted it.))

Kentarou needs to count. Unlike other people who do this because it calms their fury, he has to count the reasons as to why he isn’t at Yahaba’s throat. The counting calms and eases his muscles. Not in the way so he cannot play volleyball anymore, but in the way he won’t lash out and, what his uncle used to say, ‘do something that lands you in juvie’. He doesn’t have to count all the way to ten, either.

One. They’re still on the court, mid-fucking game. Two. He still has that bald fucking shitface to trash first. He has priorities. Three (here the crown of his head throbs, a reminder he doesn’t need). Iwaizumi plays and stands and jumps and receives a mere meter away from him. There are three people Kentarou respects and fears, two of which are his family members, and the third being the ace he aspires to be, right in front of him. Four. There are girls present. Cute ones at that. He wouldn’t for the life of them stain their volleyball memory by making a scene here. Five (and here his shoulders slump). There’s time. No need to rush something that can turn out good, if not damn fucking wonderful. Six. They’re losing. Even if they were winning, starting a fight would end in disqualification. As ready as he is for a lot of shit, costing his team a win they still can ensure for themselves would be downright disgraceful.

And seven. It’s something he feels not just in his loins (although it started there). It spreads to his fingertips, which have eased from hitting the ball while he stood in the substitute range. The spread of it heats his neck (he still feels the hall door) and his shoulders. Breathing out, it’s the calmest he’s been in a year, and Kentarou doesn’t deny the simple fact that a part of him didn’t dislike being taken by his shirt, pushed against a hard place, and yelled at. A lot of these guys lacked a constant fierce glare when they’re off to the side of the court. Not Yahaba Shigeru. Kentarou watches him, not like a hawk as the metaphor would have it. Like a dog, uptight and on his guard. Few guys can claim to have had a moment of surprise to get at him. He feels the imbalance of being physically attacked, without physically retributing. It tingles in the tip of his fingers, makes him smile for no good reason. Not a lot of guys would be able to walk away from him. 

Eight. He likes to watch Yahaba’s back. And _envision_.

*~*~*

It's three days after the preliminaries ended. Shigeru feels the second-rate bullshit feeling aching in his bones. He himself didn’t do much to help prevent it. They lost, as a team. None of that mattered now. He had to keep the mindspace alive that he’s still a second year, that he still has next year to play. 

Shigeru has to do so without his senpai. Hanamaki has been kind to him on every occasion, and together with Matsukawa they’d crack jokes and would talk to him about the series he likes to keep up to date with. Iwaizumi was without a doubt the strongest on the team, someone who would extend his hand, his arm to you, and at which grace you could pull yourself out from the mud. He didn’t have to say anything, or have to do anything. Iwaizumi only had to be there, to let his presence roar loudly in the gymnasium. Whenever the good hearted and inspirational third years were there, Shigeru’s own strength didn’t feel so insignificant. As long as they were there, he had reason to believe that becoming better was a matter of pride and perseverance. 

Three days without them at practice, and he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Oikawa had been an entire different being, when he tossed. Past tense, since he didn’t come, alike the other third years. They were done, and there was a strong belief from them and the coaches present that the torch should pass to Yahaba. To make the team strong; to lead them to victory.

Watari was a goodnatured person, but he wasn’t them. And Shigeru, beneath all of it, couldn’t even think of ever becoming them. Still, ruminating would help no one, and Shigeru pushes his empty bento aside to bow himself over the set of tips Oikawa wrote down for the new captain, which turned out to be utter nonsense. Even so, the presence of silly words on this paper made Shigeru feel better about himself.

“Yo, Yahaba. Have a minute?” 

The boys next to the entrance to class 5 parted their group, giving the delinquent standing there an apprehensive look. The girls on the other hand, ignored him altogether. 

Through the parted crowd, Shigeru’s head didn’t turn, not as much as his eyes gazed to the entrance, filled the space, raps on the doorway as if he likes the tune of it. Shigeru’s good humour fades. Matsukawa once said people told him his uniform didn’t fit him, but if anyone couldn’t pull off those checkered plaid trousers, it would be Kyoutani. Him being here couldn’t be good. Shigeru shoves his seat back to stand up, under the watchful eyes of his classmates when he goes to the exit. The group standing there gave them some privacy, which is a polite but fake attempt to not stand too close to them, while still hearing what they’d say.

“What do you want?” 

Kentarou crosses the line to enter the class, the back of his hand stuck to the door frame. He enters Shigeru’s private space, at least his upper body does, slackening his jaw and making a dumb face.

“I said, a minute.” He retreats to the hallway, waiting for Shigeru to follow. “Or five, if you gotta be so damn neat and precise.”

Some bystanders in the second class hallway have seen the match, and had been present a few days ago, and so knew that Shigeru and Kyoutani are team members, for better and for worse. From what rumours told him, the worse mood definitely gotten the better of Kyoutani after the match. He’d been taciturn on the bus, subdued in class, and had been seen kicking a trashcan or two out of furious anger. 

And now this headstrong guy has to be under the care of Shigeru, who would have to get used to controlling him on a daily basis. He smiles at himself. Although the presence next to him has an ominous feeling oozing from his slack shoulders and balled fists, Shigeru ensures one fact; whatever the deal today is, he knows he can handle Kyoutani. For now, he follows him and his determined quietness, hoping the reason of this mysterious visit will come to light soon. They round the corner to the stairs, taking a few flights up until there are no onlookers or eavesdroppers.

Kyoutani stands still on one landing, hands in his pockets. “Heard you were named captain.” 

“Usually human beings say ‘Congratulations’, instead of second-guessing decisions. Has no one taught you some tricks?” Annoyed at the tone and feel of where this could go, Shigeru composes himself, wanting to end it quickly. He remembers he’s been given a time frame in which this operation of non-existent niceties would ensue.

“Your five minutes start now.” Shigeru crosses his arms and waits. Watching as Kyoutani swaggers over with his wide gait, Shigeru tries to keep his eyes on the easy grin, and nowhere below it. 

“...Kay. So where do I start?” Kyoutani invades his space again, this time from the toes touching Shigeru’s, to the shoulders leaning in, all the way to that flaring nose which exhales gusts that Shigeru feels on his lips. Even if he’d rammed this boy the other day, they hadn’t been this close. “Say, how long did you fap off to me yesterday?”

His mental fortitude doesn’t slip. When Shigeru breathes, his arm brushes Kyoutani’s tie. The things he could do with that fine slip of fabric make him cast his eyes away to look outside the window, where he sees nothing but trees and tree tops swaying. Kyoutani sniffs at him, once, hums in confirmation to something only he knows the meaning. It unnerves him, not knowing what Kyoutani seems to become surer of by the second. As if he can smell sin wafting off of him in waves. 

“What makes you think I’d do insane stuff like that?” 

Kyoutani’s grin widens, his eyes following the along the same lines. While his smile flashes teeth, his eyes don’t flash at all. They darken. Hands out of his pockets, he touches the wall on either of Shigeru, standing on tip toes to reach his lips, if only to mutter a curse under his breath. Shigeru doesn’t blink, standing erect as he controls his baser instincts. When he asks what Kyoutani just said, their lips brush.

“I said ‘Oh, are we playing this game, bastard’. Your ears must become better, now that you’re captain.” 

“My voice has to become better, only. It's your ears who need adjusting. I denied what you said, not saying I’d like to play games.” 

“You did when you lied. Fine, do that to yourself.” Kyoutani’s chest pushes against Shigeru’s crossed arms, making him stagger back when he places Shigeru snugly between the wall and himself. From this short distance, the eyes look really dark, pupils dilated and all. Gripping the inside of his elbows and letting the shiver run down his spine (and to somewhere else), he has to deny not only what Kyoutani says, but also what Shigeru himself wants.

“I for one touched my junk thinking about your hands first, then came imagining your face, and then kept going until I came a second time.” Licking his lips, Kyoutani’s tongue runs over Shigeru’s mouth, who has the hardest time not giving in that blunt invitation. He’s frozen in place by the images in his mind, while the real thing right in front of him doesn’t offer distance for retrospection. The smile comes as a maelstrom, loud and rushing, reeling him towards destruction. 

Eyes drop to it, crossed arms becoming undone, the back of his hands and arms sliding down across the tautness pressing closer once the obstacle moves. The thought of kissing this wild beast distorts when the bell chimes him back to reality, where he doesn’t go off following the impish and baser instincts of a guy he partial dislikes. Eyes clearing and dodging the lips, Shigeru pushes one arm holding him prisoner up in the air, then ducks beneath it to flee. 

Kyoutani’s hand flinches to hold him at his arm. Shigeru glances at the fingers, the taping, the miniscule scar on one knuckle and the papercut between two fingers. He takes them off his person, and runs down the flight of stairs, back to the safety of his class room. 

He now dreads practice for a whole different reason. 

*~*~*

He never thought he’d enjoy practice this much before it even starts. After the staircase incident, riling Yahaba eases his gut and makes him smile more than once. Kentarou doesn’t address him unless every English pronunciation syllable of the word ‘captain’ drips with sarcasm and doubt at the setter’s abilities. Yahaba returns his stare every time, keeping mum. 

_Captain_ Yahaba claps his hands, eyes solely fixed on Kentarou. 

“Okay, this half,” He gestures his right arm to the right side, the division next to Kentarou. “Sprints on the long side. And this side.” His left arm swings to the left side, excluding Kentarou all together. “warm up your arms by smashing the ball to each other, via the ground. Whenever Watari sounds the whistle, do an approach run and jump, and a flying fall. Change after 3 minutes.” 

“And what do you want me to do, captain?” Kentarou waits before the group splits up, and he keeps the corner of his mouth downcast. The face Yahaba makes affirms that he’s noticing how the polite address sounds more of an insult. It also gets Kentarou what he wants, way faster. He’s done paving the way for them to meet where they need to be, where Kentarou wants them to be. 

Yahaba asks him outside. Behind them, half of the team does sprints, the other runs around the ring, everyone doing what they were told to do whenever Watari’s whistles sounds.

“You want to be on this team, or not?” 

“...Obviously.” He hasn’t thought Yahaba would use this card so early. 

“Then behave. Just cause you have a personal problem-”

“I’ve got a personal problem, which you know how to fix.” In a rude gesture, Kentarou grabs himself through two thin layers of shorts, savouring Yahaba’s eyes when they drop to the action. “I guess now isn’t the time-”

“More like never. Don’t act all tough. You have to prove to me that you’re more than just hot air. And I say this now, Kyoutani.” Yahaba steps closer, sand gusting at every move towards Kentarou. “I won’t stand for you undermining my authority. 

Of course the asshole doesn’t back away. He licks his lips and steps as close to Shigeru as they can get without physical touch. The moisture of his lips sizzles Shigeru’s. “Respect is to be earned, not demanded.” 

Shigeru smiles. He pats Kyoutani’s shoulders, letting the hand lean heavy there for as long as it takes for Kyoutani to throw it off his shoulder with a harsh shrug.

“Well, right now, I have more of that from the team than you have. Recognition of your strength is one thing. Counting on you, with you in the state you’re in? A total other.” Walking towards the gyms, holding the door, Shigeru glances to where the light illuminates part of Kyoutani’s face. “Don’t skip practice without giving me a good reason, Kyoutani. And don’t stand there, we’re already started.” 

*~*~*

“Hey, first year. Yes you! Don’t even try to hide.” A few people turn around when Kentarou’s voices echoes louder than smashing volleyballs throughout the gymnasium. He doesn’t care. It doesn’t do much to him that the person on the other side of the net, whom he’s about to scold, is giving him an annoyed and careful look. Kentarou doesn’t know if Yahaba has heard him, but by the way his surroundings die down, he allows himself to think that he is, or will be soon. “That was a pathetic excuse for a block. You didn’t even jump properly.”

The kid’s annoyed look becomes more intense, and he looks around to his teammates on his side of the net, before his incredulous look is back on Kentarou. “I’m sorry, you just drove a ball past me. What are you complaining about?” 

This however, does things to Kentarou, who pushes the net’s lower barrier over his head to glare at the kid without the net between them. They’re at practice still, and this isn’t even so much about teasing Yahaba or making his first night as captain harder. This is a matter of teaching his future team to be better and more resilient. 

“The fuck I’m trying to say is, you should try harder. If you can’t block me, how do you think you’ll block other opponents? Your positioning was fucked up, your arms were too close together, and you didn’t jump at your full potential. How the hell is anyone going to let you into a match with piss-poor blocking of that mediocre proportion?” 

Yahaba comes forth between two other second years, his face freezing when he sees Kentarou as the culprit. Although this wasn’t only meant to tease Yahaba, Kentarou doesn’t mind seeing that face scrunch up and become angry with him. Those eyes squinting in held back anger are also nice to look at. Instead of having it blow out full throttle against him, however, Yahaba rounds up on the first year. 

“Kamagi-kun, go with Kindaichi and practice blocking. Kindaichi-kun,” Yahaba looks past Kentarou, to Kindaichi who had received the ball Kentarou had smashed over earlier. “Find a free net and hold the ball up for him to reach. Twenty touches, then you both can return.”

Kindaichi takes one of the balls out of the basket, a firm ‘Osu’ accompanying his nod to Yahaba. The lanky first year then waits for Kamagi to turn away from Kentarou, and they leave. At last, Yahaba’s eyes fix on him, displeased. Behind him, the other team scuffles their feet, trying to make conversation while they have to wait.

“So you agree-” 

“Twenty laps around the building, then you can come back to help mop up the floor at the far side.” Yahaba’s voice is too level, while his arms hang at the side. He’s not quite what Kentarou wants from him. He steps up, not too close as in the stairway or an hour ago outside the gym. But close enough to smell Yahaba, to watch him not squirm and stand still.

“You agree his blocking needs-”

“It’s not up to you to berate beginners, and your tone is too vile to even try. It’s up to me making this a good team and having everyone do their part, and for you to shut your trap when I tell you to. Now, I said, twenty laps.” Yahaba slides over the court, close enough for Kentarou to see his lashes flutter, a silent fury he won’t give into while others are watching. “Go, or it’ll be thirty, and you can mop the floor alone.” Yahaba doesn’t wait for an answer, turning around to yell for another member to replace Kentarou’s spot.

It’s not an adult’s voice in his head that makes him do as he’s told. It’s not the wish to fit into a team, or wanting to be useful to them. Kentarou leaves the court for one reason only; he really likes getting Yahaba’s attention, and that’s what he got.

He does the laps, picks up a ball that got smashed outside earlier, and returns to mop like the rest. His good boy behaviour receives a single nod from Yahaba, who oversees and helps taking down the nets. Kentarou keeps his distance to him, liking it when Yahaba circles back to him on his own. Once practice is over and most go to change, some stay behind to chat, or drink some water outside.

Kentarou joins the latter group. Two guys from his grade, taller than him, but not any better. He opens the faucet and cleans his neck, splashes his face, always on the look out where Yahaba hovers closely. When he catches Yahaba staring, he grins, drinking some of the water. As soon as the other two guys are gone, a towel flings into his face, and he rubs it all over to clean up.

“Be careful, or you’ll catch a cold.” 

“Keep your fake concern, captain.” Kentarou walks besides him, the last two walking to the club room. Yahaba laughs. 

“I don’t care. Remember, I only have to keep up a goody every once in a while.” Yahaba glances at him, while Kentarou treats him to a full stare, watching his eyes and where they travel down his body. The thought of Yahaba checking him out, making looking for waterdrops, heats his skin up all over. “I don’t give a damn about you, Kyoutani.”

That also makes his blood burn. Kentarou reaches up when he’s sure no one else is there to see. He congratulates Yahaba’s composure for not backing off or pushing him away this time. Nonetheless, he whispers, just to create a hungry and hot feeling on Yahaba’s ears. “You do give a fucking damn about me. Don’t even pretend you don’t want a piece of me.” 

He tries to lick the ear, but Yahaba draws a line there, and plants the hard side of his palms to Kentarou’s shoulder to create distance. The eyes are back on fire, and Yahaba’s mouth curls to snarl, which turns Kentarou on all the more when he starts to hiss at him.

“Fuck off, Mad Dog.”

“Suck my dick, captain.” 

*~*~*

Shigeru shouldn’t have agreed to the bet. He should have said ‘no thanks, no interest’. The ‘no interest’ part would have been a lie, but one he could have handled. What he should have done was maybe hit Kyoutani’s face, then kick him, then yell, and then run. He could have sputtered, said this was stupid. He might have considered coming up with a better bet, more agreeable terms. 

Instead he finds himself in a locked toilet stall, 20 minutes before class starts, and Kyoutani’s tongue in his ear.

He’s happy Kyoutani needs something to hold onto, as his palms are placed on the soft side of Shigeru’s elbows. If its meant to keep Shigeru from running away, or if he’s genuinely liking the touch, he will not ask. It makes keeping his own arms at his side easier, his fists balled while Kyoutani’s slick tongue drives him on the absolute edge of reason. Tiny little exhales escape through Shigeru’s nose, his lips pressing shut. While he’s here, none of the things he should and could have done matter. It all boils down to the fact that while he’s standing there stiff like a tree without wind, he’s not doing anything to get back at Kyoutani.

Who notices. The tongue relieves the ear, a quick bite delivered to the lobe, before Kyoutani looks at him.

“You’re supposed to anticipate, y’know. I mean,” He huffs a laugh, shrugs his shoulder. “I know I can win, but you’re not even trying. There’s no fun in that.” 

It’s a good thing the tongue hasn’t driven him over the edge, yet. Shigeru keeps himself composed while he glares at Kyoutani, wishing he’d be a cockroach he can crush under the heel of his shoe. Instead, he bluffs, smiling sweetly. “Oh I’m sorry. See, I’m just trying to be nice. Giving you a head start.” 

Kyoutani’s grin is dirty, just like when he proposed this stupid idea the moment he saw Shigeru get in school.

 _”Come again.”_

“It’s easy. If you win, I’ll behave at practice. I won’t stir trouble, even if I want too. And if I so feel inclined to misbehave, I’ll come directly to you after practice.” Of course he should have Kyoutani’s unwavering compliance one way or the other, and there would be easier ways to get at that. Maybe if Shigeru could start not being into him, that would be good. Instead, he stands there and considers the bet.

“And if I don’t win..?” Shigeru dreads the words, knowing only too well how Kyoutani’s mind works by now. Kyoutani edges closer, hands on Shigeru’s wrists, checking his pulse. 

“Oh, then you only owe me a favour.” 

“No need for that, bastard. I can handle you just fine.” Shigeru says, believing every word of it. Kyoutani grins still when he attacks Shigeru’s ear, teeth returning to the lobe in a hungry fashion. “You’re gonna fling yourself at me, sooner or later. Try and lie to me, your body is honest enough to admit.” 

“And yours isn’t?” Having had enough, Shigeru grabs Kyoutani through his uniform trousers, fingers curling around the bulge there. He gives it a few strokes, relishing the hardening feeling under his fingertips. Kyoutani doesn’t make a sound, which is too sad. It doesn’t keep Shigeru from trying, and he rubs harder. “Who’s to say that you’re not the one who will beg for it?” 

“Please, I’m not weak. It’ll need more than that to get me to sing.” _”One sound, one moan, one gasp. Those are the conditions.”_ The tongue licks his lobe, traces the ear shell, lies flat against the warm, red top. Shigeru perseveres, biting his bottom lip and keeping the music Kyoutani wants to hear from spilling out. He wishes to hold that stupid bleached hair, to press the back of his head, to make that tongue go other places too. But Shigeru will be damned before admitting that much, or letting Kyoutani know, indeed, how much he likes it, how much more he needs it. 

Kyoutani brings him to lean against the stall door, almost gentle and careful. But then his true meaning comes out, when his knee glides up between Shigeru’s legs, and press against his crotch. He kneads him slow, in circular motion, not too hard or too soft. Then the tip of Kyoutani’s tongue slides back into his ear, humming a vibration which resonates in Shigeru’s entire being, including his dick. Kyoutani’s bottom lip presses the sensitive lobe, his breath edging out hotly. There’s so much want and need in his body, too, so much heat that needs releasing. Then the tongue curls, and Shigeru’s eyes see white. 

“Oh, god, _fuck_ -” He moans, unable to stop when the good feelings become too much. He clasps his hand over his mouth, a second too late. And even if he had done so in time, they had their rules. No muting, no hiding. Biting the lip had been fine, since it wouldn’t stop the heavier sounds, even if you tried. He can feel the glowering eyes burn his cheeks. Shigeru doesn’t look, doesn’t need to know. His entire face reddens, while his hand tries to press against Kyoutani’s stomach, to give him some space to breathe. Slowly, he removes his hand from his mouth, exhales and slumps his shoulders. Well now he is in deep shit. 

“You a man of your word, Yahaba?”

“Stop fucking around. Of course I am.” And he follows, when Kyoutani pulls him off the door, drags him away when he leans to one of the toilet’s side, easy and smiling. Only then Shigeru can look up, while there’s still little space between them. He’s touching Kyoutani’s sides, his fascination to the power hidden there keep his fingers to return to those places like magnets. Kyoutani’s smile is softer, less dirty. His downward glance to his bulge isn’t, and it worsens when he glances at Shigeru, waiting.

Rolling his shoulders, Shigeru doesn’t wait around. He knows quite well what Kyoutani wants of him. He’s heard ‘suck my dick Yahaba’ whispered too often into his ears for the past days to not know. 

His hands halter at the waistband. The fright and humiliation he feels are real, nothing he could charm or lie his way out of, nothing he could pretend. Shigeru fails to act tough, and the feeling of total loss of control makes his fingers shake. He’s a man of his word, and he will do what he’d agreed to. But still.

“Why do you want me to suck your dick?” 

“Seriously? It’s hot. And it’s gonna be fucking amazing having you on your knees and doing that for me.” Kyoutani’s hips jerk against Shigeru’s fingers, who cannot make himself uphold his honour and move. He stars at the dark hair curling over the waistband, the trail leading over Kyoutani’s stomach. Some of the tiny hairs tickle the back of his fingers. 

“But...how? I’ve never done that before. It won’t be hot when I’m sillying around or bite or gag-” He stops himself from speaking, shame washing from atop his hot neck all over his shoulders and arms. His fingers start to shake, which is bad considering they’re on Kyoutani’s skin, and that he can feel every tremble. Shigeru hates showing this kind of pitiful, weak figure. He considers choking on his words while trying to fit Kyoutani in his mouth, and just go down to give what he owes. 

His pride is not tested that way. Glancing up to open his mouth and take back what he said, Shigeru is silenced by Kyoutani’s huffing, eye rolling face. 

“Fuck. Alright fine, whatever. A kiss will do.” The hand is in Shigeru’s neck before he can say a word, while his mouth opens to try. Kyoutani’s eyes are closed when he kisses him, and he doesn’t wait a beat to let Shigeru gather what happens, when the tongue slides between open lips and into Shigeru’s mouth, who holds still. Kyoutani’s head tilts to the side, deepening the kiss. His other hand stays at his side, and he concentrates solely on making Shigeru’s inside turn and flutter. Not to be put out, Shigeru reacts after he closes his own eyes and throws all inhibitions out the window. He allows himself to do what he wants, which is to kiss as ferociously as his lips and tongue will allow. His hands slide over Kyoutani’s uniform shirt, not caring how much wanton need they slip out by doing so.

His back is brought to the wall behind him, Kyoutani’s pressing against him much less vigorously than usual. He’s too into the kiss to even stop for a minute, when Shigeru hums. They make out for a couple of minutes, until Shigeru remembers the time. He checks his watch, groans that they have minutes left. Biting Kyoutani doesn’t make him stop, however, and instead Shigeru’s hips are rammed with the other pair. 

He bites again, hard enough to make Kyoutani gasps. 

“Class. Five minutes.” He lost the will to speak, out of breath and trying to inhale air to make coherent sentences. “We need to go.” 

Kyoutani regards him for a moment, glancing between his lips and his eyes. He then ducks forward to capture Shigeru’s bottom lip in a bite, pulling it out for taste. “‘Kay, fine.” The kiss resumes for a few seconds, in which Shigeru tries to let his tongue roam over Kyoutani’s mouth, who nibbles at him in return. This time, Kyoutani stops them.

“Start choking on phallic fruit. I’ll win again next time, and I will ask the same thing.” Kyoutani leaves first, closing the door. The sound of trousers being zipped up and the second door slamming shut is all Shigeru needs to relax. He rams his head against the toilet stall, a silent fury running the hairs on his arms upright. 

Oh, he will make Kyoutani squirm and rue the day he wanted Shigeru’s mouth on his crotch. . 

*~*~*

They wrestle on the bed. 

It starts out with Kyoutani not keeping his mouth to himself. He annoys Shigeru’s face or ears, using teeth and tongue and slurping lips. As if working out the secret to unlock sensitive spots has been his sole purpose in life for the past two weeks. Shigeru had to push him off once or twice when he didn’t feel like it, when they could be seen, or when he simply didn’t want to give Kyoutani the pleasure of making him weak-kneed. Today the latter was in order. In a lot of cases, Kyoutani would back off if Shigeru told him to or pushed him away. But sometimes, those things turned to indicate ‘do more your best’ in that brain of his. 

They wrestle, a lot. It’s playful body-checks and trying to play which each other’s hair (Shigeru likes to rub, Kyoutani likes to pull. They both get annoyed easily). They end up on tatami and court floors, pressed against rooftop stairway houses or fences. Upturned tree roots have helped Kyoutani more than once to tackle Shigeru and ram him against a tree, if only to invade his space and laugh. 

Today is no different, except by a score of 14:15, Shigeru’s need to win this time, to even the slate. One thing that rubbed off from Kyoutani, was the shameless trick of fighting dirty. Grinning in a downright filthy manner, Shigeru’s leg slides over Kyoutani’s bulge, enabling him to grab the wrists and pin him on the bed. He’s all over him, using his weight to make sure Kyoutani stays immobile. At the sight of peril, Shigeru has to keep his distance, as much as this position of sitting on Kyoutani’s lap allows him too. He sees the fight or flight flash in Kyoutani’s eyes.

Except with him, it’s always the fight option. 

He struggles under Shigeru’s palm, who has a hard time dealing with the strength pulsating beneath his palms and arousingly, beneath his rear. Kyoutani’s fury is beautiful, so delightful when he loses it. Breathing strongly through his nose, his chest heaves as if he’s trying to disengage any minute and ram Shigeru down with the air filling his lungs. 

“Stop it, relax-”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.” It sounds strenuous, through gritted teeth. Shigeru enters his airspace, the heat breathing out dangerous and disrupting his lower regions. To ease them both, he circles his hips, his ass sliding over Kyoutani, whose last inhale is deep. Hovering near his ear, Shigeru hears how he holds his breath. He doesn’t bite though, a good omen. Shigeru also believes that Kyoutani’s flexible abdomen muscles, he’d easily be able to throw him off fighting dirty. When he doesn’t, Shigeru eases. 

“I said, relax. You want to feel good, yes?” 

“...What do you mean, ‘good’?” 

Shigeru’s nose brushes the cheek when he turns his head, his smile audible when he lifts his face and becomes visible to Kyoutani. “That we both enjoy it.” _But that my enjoyment happens before yours, just in case._

There’s shuddering excitement beneath him, the flicker of a grin. Then Kyoutani’s face hardens, and he doesn’t just struggle; he gets Shigeru’s hands off him. 

“Fuck off. You’re heavy.” Even so, Kyoutani doesn’t try to leave. He lies down, eyes to the ceiling, and his hands resting on Shigeru’s thighs. They stay like this for a while, Shigeru’s impatience running thin. Kyoutani is either into it and wants to rush things, or keep his distance and take it slow. Preferably swinging his sexual mood within minutes, if he feels being bothersome. Just as bothersome as the bulge beneath Shigeru’s crotch.

Anticipating Kyoutani would say something, Shigeru decides to act first. He doesn’t care that it might seem like he wants it more. He’s doing this for his own sake, and own sensation, and if Kyoutani has to make a comment about it, he’ll silence him. Holding his breath, he moves his ass forward, grinding his crotch over Kyoutani’s lap. And he’s occupied with the sensation of having Shigeru move like that. He opens his mouth, only a little, and only to exhale, watching Shigeru with glossed over eyes. Shigeru has to look away from that, looking down to Kyoutani’s hands still on his thighs. They’ve never done this before, not like this. There might have been grinding, but it was usually Kyoutani (literally) pushing his buttons. They copped a feel, or Shigeru would grab between Kyoutani’s leg to keep him on his toes. This was a whole new level of erotic, and Shigeru liked being in charge, instigating this. To have Kyoutani lie down, silent, and taking it. 

He puts his hand on Kyoutani’s knee, trying to have more stability when he presses his rear down Kyoutani’s hardening dick. The throb he feels makes him grab the knee harder, and he sees discomfort appearing on Kyoutani’s face. He explains when Shigeru’s brow raises in question. 

“Went to dive for the ball. Hurt like hell.” Kyoutani was the type of player who didn’t wear knee braces, but who would go for the ball even if injury would follow. Making immediate use of this knowledge, Shigeru observes Kyoutani’s face when he presses his thumb on the sore place. The hiss pleases him, although he hides his smile, and acts it cool. “And here I’d thought you’d kiss it better. Or give me a blowjob.” 

Regarding the moving eyebrows with disgust, Shigeru stops himself from pressing on the knee. Instead, he opts for moving his rear again. That shuts Kyoutani’s mouth for at least a minute, before his head falls back with a laughing moan. “You think about it too, Yahaba. This would be better without clothes.” 

He thought about it, but he won’t admit to it. Shigeru tries to concentrate on his own pleasure while taking Kyoutani apart, but the latter has no patience to just lie down and take this easy, or on Shigeru’s terms. He sits up, lips back to skin, kissing it for a while before licking it. In this situation, with their school work forgotten on the table, Shigeru lets him. He holds back to move faster just because the tongue on his throat and then at the joint to his shoulder drives him crazy. It makes his arms sling around Kyoutani’s neck and his nails scratch whatever part of him he can get at. 

Shigeru practiced not coming too fast after Kyoutani’s daily tease and jokes about jerking off, which were now detailed when he did, and for how long. The teasing always came with a hinted silence at the end, which Shigeru never acted upon. Not until he knew for sure he could outlast Kyoutani if they jerk off together, each other, or whatever they’d be doing if Shigeru decides that ‘without clothes’ would indeed be better for him. 

Kyoutani is adamant in shattering that plan. He fumbles Shigeru’s button and zipper open, and for a moment Shigeru is ready to duck his head and moan, only to bite his ear off right after. To his surprise, Kyoutani’s hand doesn’t go for his front. It reaches to his back. He tenses up when the set of hands slide down his lower back and into the folds of his trousers. As Kyoutani grinds up against him, the feeling where they meet and slide over each other is so good that he cannot help but exhale softly. His eyes flash open, aware that biting back wouldn’t help fending Kyoutani off (whose nails run up his ass), it would only encourage him. He has to show that this is unacceptable another way. 

_”...If someone bothers you, go for the throat.”_

_“Excuse me?” Shigeru looked at him, while Kyoutani watched the road ahead._

_“The throat, like this,” Kyoutani’s hand, four fingers pressed together and the thumb pointing the other way, went to his own Adam’s apple. “If you put pressure at the right place, the asshole will lose his breathing for a moment, open as a kite for attack or making it easier for you to run away.”_

_“And you’re telling me this because…” Shigeru watches Kyoutani’s small excitement while explaining techniques fade. He stares ahead again, shrugging his shoulders._

_“No reason.”_

He remembers what Kyoutani did with his hand and goes for his throat. Kyoutani backs off, sputtering and coughing, then laughing. “The hell was that?”

 _Open as a kite...easier for you to run away_ Shigeru gets off Kyoutani and the bed, murmuring about having to leave. Kyoutani is still laughing on the bed at the feeble attempt of combat. He comes as far as the door when he remembers to zip up, when Kyoutani’s hand grabs his shoulder and turns him around. Pushing Shigeru against hard places must give him a real kick, the amount of times he does it. The hands aren’t on Shigeru at the moment, but he feels them close to his waist, where they’re put on the wall. 

“Stay.” There is little space between them. Shigeru’s nose is scent with Kyoutani’s odour, lacking any refreshers or shampoo-y smells. A hint of workout lingers on him, but it doesn’t smell bad. “C’mon, you want to.” 

Shigeru hates how the pheromones affect him. He isn’t nervous, only peeved at Kyoutani’s easy ways to agitate him. Time to play his joker card. He is looking away, biting his bottom lip, acting shy. Kyoutani’s head follows, ducks when Shigeru looks down. It would be so easy to engage Kyoutani’s needs, let him kiss him places, let him undress him, drive him crazy on the bed. 

“I want to,” The first thing out of Shigeru’s mouth isn’t a lie. The next thing is. He makes sure to look at Kyoutani, only through his lashes, making them flutter a little “but I don’t think I’m ready.” 

It’s a half lie, but the evasion works and Kyoutani takes it. Resolute, he stares at Shigeru’s eyes, sometimes dropping a glance to the lips. He stays away, nodding. “Still. Stay.” 

Acting as if he thinks about it, Shigeru drops his head and tries his best to not let a grin show on his face. His hands put on Kyoutani, he’s gentle when he makes him back off a little more. “Just keep your hands off me. And stop lapping at my neck the whole time, it’s distracting.” 

He doesn’t wait to see the nod this time, and retreats to the place he sat before they’d started wrestling. Eyes intent on homework formulas, Shigeru doesn’t look up when Kyoutani sits next to him, their arms and legs not touching. He takes a break from homework with a magazine, his feet tapping the low table. They stay like this for a while, Shigeru bent over homework, Kyoutani languid and at ease besides him.

“Your ass is kinda sexy, y’know?” 

Rolling his eyes and keeping the grunt down his throat, Shigeru turns to look behind him, where Kyoutani sits against his bed. His eyes glance to the bulge, the tent smaller than he’d expected. Back up, he observes that knowing grin, the magazine on his chest, the lifted hand. Kyoutani’s grin widens when he puts his index finger and thumb close together, winking at him. 

“Kinda.”

The circle the hand makes isn’t lost on Shigeru, who flips him off. 

*~*~*

Yahaba is hiding in his bathroom. It has been ten minutes (not that Kentarou checked the clock every 45 seconds to check), and the kid hadn’t returned to his room.

While he’d been away, Kentarou had opened the windows, threw away the condom, hid the messy bottle of lube, and cleaned up his futon. His knees were hurting and were a bit wobbly. For once, he’s happy Yahaba had run off to the bathroom. First Kentarou had though he needed to wash himself. The sex had been quite hot, and Kentarou too had to wipe off the sweat in his neck.

What he didn’t get was why Yahaba was the one freaking out. After twenty minutes of wrestling, three games of ‘the winner fucks the loser’, and a making out session that had gone to his head in seconds, Kentarou had consented. He’d lost in fact the three games. Holding a burning cigarette to their skins; Yahaba was a tough fuck and his pretty skin handles pain quite well. Then their often practised ‘who makes a sound loses’, ended up in Kentarou moaning right into Yahaba’s ear. And finally a jerking off competition, which Yahaba’s persistent stamina had won out, who then kindly requested Kentarou to lube them both up. In the end, Kentarou didn’t mind bending over for him, although he acted as if it was, every second of it. He’d chosen to go on all fours in front of Yahaba, not giving him the satisfaction of showing his face to the one who would fuck his ass.

He knocks at the door again. 

“Oi, open up already. You gonna take a shit forever in there or what? I’ve gotta piss.” He doesn’t have to. The glass of water he consumed hasn’t yet reached his bladder. He doesn’t hear any movements inside, and rolls his eyes at the door. “The fuck, Yahaba. Get your ass out of there.” 

*~*~*

Inside, Shigeru drew a shaky breath. He stands up when the knocking becomes a full blown slamming fist. Yet, he’s unable to move forward. The images of Kyoutani’s back, his neck, the bits and pieces of his screwed face Yahaba made out -and god, how he felt inside. Legs shaky, he makes it to the water basin. The cool stream feels so good on his hands that he splashes it over his arms, up to the elbows, and onto his face. Facing the mirror, Yahaba lets the droplets slide from his chin and drip back into the basin. It’s been too much, trying to keep up with Kyoutani for the past weeks. Trying to outrun him, outwit him, to be the commanding force in this fucked up relationship.

Kyoutani pushes his buttons, day by day. He smirks and smells good, keeps telling him how much he wants to fuck and how good Shigeru would feel like. All this time, Shigeru had thought he’d lose out, that one day, he’d be the weaker of them too. Then all it took was a little bit of pain, keeping his mouth shut, and making sure he wouldn’t come. In the end it had been so easy, to turn Kyoutani around, bend him over, fuck him and bite him, tell _him_ about all these amazing sensations.

They’ve been too much. Too heavy. Shigeru still trembled, and he thought his heart would give when Kyoutani clenched his ass. As soon as he came, Shigeru slapped that ass with some mean comment he cannot remember now, and went to the bathroom. A safe haven for the past ten minutes (not that he’d checked, every 56 seconds or so, how long he was gone).

He flushes the empty toilet and sprays deodorant, if only to keep up appearances. After a deep sigh, he feels himself collected enough to face Kyoutani. To hide how much that single event had done to him, how in the end everything Kyoutani has done affected him. 

He’s greeted by that pissed off snarl, as Kyoutani waits at the other side of the door. The glance Shigeru receives unnerves him, he mouths ‘what’, and then pushes Kyoutani into the bathroom. Attempting to close the door doesn’t go as planned, when Kyoutani’s body shoves itself between the frame. He still stares at him, furious. Suddenly he grabs Yahaba’s shirt and pulls, nearly colliding their lips and teeth. “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

“...Think about what?”

“That you owe my ass even for a second cause I let you pound me.” 

“Oh but I do, don’t I?” Shigeru’s confidence returns, and he lets his hands slide over Kyoutani’s warm face. “I did the minute you showed how much you wanted me. You even went so far as to moan out loud when I bit your neck earlier. That didn’t sound as displeasure.” His nails curl on the cheeks, and he drives their lips close, more biting than kissing. 

“Wash up and get ready for round two. I want to see your face this time.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic gave me the most trouble D: I tried to challenge myself during hq!! hols, and this one did me in. I hope I ticked off everything you asked me too, or at least that me trying is visible enough. I honestly tried, and I hope there's at least one thing in there you like.


End file.
